She looked down, then looked up at me, as if confused. Her head tilted and her arms flopped weakly into the water, as if she’d been unplugged. Her body fell sideways. Her eyes rolled back.

“Geri? . . . ,” I yelled. “Geri?”

A blossoming pool of red began darkening the sea around her. Her torso rose briefly to the surface, but not her legs.

“GERI!”

That’s when I saw two blurry gray shapes circling for the rest of her. My body shivered in recognition, as all of Geri’s warnings came rushing back. Don’t splash. Don’t draw attention. Don’t stay in the water for any duration. The sharks had never left. They’d just been circling, as if waiting for us to make a mistake.

I turned away in shock. I heard a thrash in the water, and covered little Alice so she wouldn’t see it, or hear it, or remember it. I prayed that the beasts would be satisfied with just one of us. It’s horrible to say, but at the moment, that was how I felt.

As I held little Alice, I began to weep with the realization of all that had happened in a few terrible minutes. Everyone was dead. Everyone was dead but the child and me.

“I’m sorry!” I sobbed. “I couldn’t save them!”

She studied my tears with a sadness that cut right through me.

“They’re all gone, Alice! Even the Lord.”

Which is when the little girl finally spoke.

“I am the Lord,” she said. “And I will never leave you.”

Ten

Land

“My name is Dobby.”

LeFleur’s heart took off like a jackrabbit. Dobby, the guy from the notebook? Dobby, the guy with the limpet mine? Dobby, whom the author had called “mad” and “a killer”? Sentences jumped to LeFleur’s mind. I can see why Dobby wanted him dead . . . It was his idea to blow up the Galaxy.

“What do you want?” LeFleur asked, his throat suddenly dry. They were squared off on the pavement, maybe thirty yards from LeFleur’s yellow house. When Dobby didn’t answer, LeFleur added, “I live on this street. All the neighbors know me. They’re probably watching through their windows right now.”

Dobby glanced at the homes, as if confused, then turned his focus back on the inspector. “My cousin,” he said. “His name was Benjamin Kierney. He was on the Galaxy. A deckhand. I was hoping maybe you knew what happened to him. Something more than what they told us, anyhow.”

“Who’s they?”

“The people from Sextant. The ones who owned the boat.”

“What did they tell you?”

“Nothing helpful. ‘All were lost. We’re so sorry.’ The standard crap.”